


every living soul

by maledict



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canon Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maledict/pseuds/maledict
Summary: Somehow, over the years, despite their proximity, their closeness to one another, it had never happened once.





	every living soul

**Author's Note:**

> In the HDM universe, [dæmons](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A6mon_\(His_Dark_Materials\)) are souls that exist outside of a person's body in the shape of an animal. Given that the term “dæmon” is Greek in origin, Korean dæmons are referred to as "guardians" here.
> 
> (this is all terribly self-indulgent) (also, title recently changed to something slightly less pretentious) (but only slightly)

    

At the beginning, they'd all discussed it—well, Hakyeon had made them discuss it: that living like they did, working like they did, it was bound to happen one way or another, and it would be a mistake, but they'd have to understand and move on.

They'd been especially concerned about Sanghee, who stood about fifteen hands high at the withers, and almost took up more space in any given room than all six of them put together. Sanghyuk had been so worried back then; companies didn’t usually let trainees with big guardians debut unless they were really skilled, and Sanghee had already settled by the time Sanghyuk joined the reality show. There’d been a few complications, but they’d managed it, and again, after debut; working around her, accommodating her, staying  _safe._

And somehow, over the years, despite their proximity, their closeness to one another, it had never happened once.

 

* * *

 

“Watch your extensions,” Hayeon told him. “Don't rush.”

“I got it, Yeonnie,” Hakyeon said. He patted her jaw fondly, and she nibbled his fingers, saying dryly, “Oh, do you? Do you really?”

They were getting ready for one of their comeback stages, threading microphone wires and suffering through last-minute makeup touches. Hakyeon was running through the choreography in his head, Hayeon beside him, butting her nose against his hip; jittery, just like him.

The guardians, as always, would stay in the wings, watching their human counterparts perform—but before that happened, they kept close, offering last-minute advice and encouragement. Trainee life had prepared them all to endure lengthier distances than usual from their guardians, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t difficult whenever they had be apart; this healing time before performances was necessary, important.

He heard Hyebin murmuring to Hongbin, “Remember what Hakyeon-oppa said about smiling,” and spotted Wonsook’s tail wagging energetically as Wonshik crouched down to scratch her behind the ears. He catalogued them all: Jaehee was rubbing her head against Jaehwan's cheek, and beside him, Taekyeon was curled up on Taekwoon's broad shoulders, kneading them with his paws. Sanghyuk and Sanghee had their heads pressed together, Sanghyuk combing out her mane with his fingers.

Hakyeon nodded to himself, satisfied; he pivoted on his heel, trying to perfect the fluidity of a move that he wasn’t entirely happy with, and his hand caught the side of Taekyeon’s flank as he leapt down from Taekwoon's shoulders.

_Oh,_ he thought.  _Oh, no._

He could hear Taekwoon’s reaction, even if he couldn’t see it: there was a choked sound that might've been pain, and Taekyeon flinched so hard mid-air he nearly botched his landing. Hakyeon froze in horror, realizing what he'd done, and then he jerked around, because if anyone had  _seen—_ no, no they hadn't, no one but Taekwoon, who looked like Hakyeon had just slapped him across the face—but before he could say anything, they were being ushered quickly onstage, automatically falling into formation, and there was nothing left to do but focus on the performance.

They did well, of course they did, but Hakyeon’s thoughts were a jumbled, panicky mess. He danced, sang, smiled on autopilot. The after-monitoring showed none of his internal distress—he was very good at his job, after all—but he still felt sick to his stomach, anxious with worry. Taekwoon didn’t look at him even once.

Back in the waiting room, Hakyeon took Taekwoon aside, careful not to touch him for too long, even though he wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him and _make_ it okay. Taekyeon was up on Taekwoon’s shoulders again, pressing himself as close as he could get to Taekwoon without hindering him; he looked as inscrutable as always, green eyes glittering.

“I'm so sorry,” Hakyeon said, glancing between them. Taekwoon had always been pale, but now he seemed almost peaked, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Earlier—it was an accident. I didn't see him, and I should have, but I didn't.”

There were some things about guardians you just didn't talk about, things that just _were_. One of them—an unspoken, universal rule, written into law since law had been first written—was that you _never_ touched someone else's guardian, not without permission, sometimes not even if you were married, sometimes never at all.

Hakyeon had heard stories, had even searched them out, about what it was like, being touched like that. Only explicit, adult-rated films dared to portray it at all, and always with "fake" guardians; people said it felt _wrong_ , like a violation, something unspeakably personal. As a trainee, they'd all read awful reports of idols’ guardians being touched by sasaengs, and later, brutal historical accounts of what Japanese soldiers had done during the occupation, articles about what North Korean defectors had suffered through… It killed Hakyeon to think Taekwoon might've felt the latter, that Hakyeon had hurt him somehow.

You could go to prison for that kind of thing.

Taekwoon shook his head. “It's okay,” he said, but Hakyeon _knew_ Taekwoon, and he knew he was lying.

“I'm sorry,” he said again, helplessly. “If there's anything I can do—”

“It was an accident. It’s fine.”

Hakyeon dropped it, but with difficulty. The guilt was eating at him, twisting him up inside, but what else could he do? It _was_ an accident. They'd all prepared for it. It had to happen eventually, and now that it had, it was time to move on.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t move on. He’d been ready to _act_ like he had, except Taekwoon kept flinching whenever he tried to get close, and had started to actively avoid him. Something was obviously wrong. The guilt wouldn’t ease up, and it was beginning to affect his work; he had to make things right before they got any worse.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Hayeon told him, nervously flicking her ears. “What if he’s offended?”

“I’ll tell him _why_ , Yeonnie.”

“He could still be offended.”

It was a risk Hakyeon was willing to take. “What about you? I won’t offer if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I don't know,” she said. She sounded anxious. “I'd have to find out. If it’s him, maybe…”

Hakyeon twisted his hands together. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

Back at the dorm, he took a deep breath, went to stand in front of Taekwoon’s door, and carefully knocked. When there was no answer, he let himself in.

Taekwoon was lying in bed, back turned to the door. He was pretending to be asleep, earbuds wedged deep, but Hakyeon noticed his shoulders tense just slightly when the shaft of light from the open door threw itself against the far wall. Taekyeon was curled up next to his head, a lump of slate gray fur, and blinked at Hakyeon with his big eyes, but not with any sort of expression Hakyeon could identify.

Hayeon daintily went over to try and touch noses. Taekyeon allowed it, even if Taekwoon didn't react.

“Taekwoon-ah, can we talk?”

Taekwoon continued to pretend to be asleep, probably hoping Hakyeon would leave him alone, but Hakyeon wasn't that easy. “Yah, I know you're awake. This is important.”

Finally, Taekwoon rolled over, blank-faced.

Hakyeon took a step forward. “Can I sit?”

Taekwoon sighed, sat up, took out his earbuds, and made room for Hakyeon to sit down next to him. Hakyeon did, but not too close—he couldn’t mess this up, and he didn’t want Taekwoon to think he was forcing anything on him. Hayeon put her head on Hakyeon’s thigh, and he laid a hand on her delicate skull, needing _some_ kind of anchor; he rubbed the spur of bone at the back of her head and took a deep breath.

“I've been thinking,” he started. “Hayeonnie and I still feel really awful about what happened, and I—didn't want you to bear it alone. So, I thought, to make it fair—if you wanted,” he paused, swallowed, and then took the plunge: “If you wanted to touch Hayeon, she said she'd let you.”

Taekwoon stared at him. It was hard to tell in the dim, shrouded room, but Hakyeon thought he saw him flinch.

He said, softly, “Are you crazy?”

Hakyeon blinked. “No? I just wanted—”

“No,” Taekwoon said. His voice never changed tone, but Hakyeon felt almost like he’d been slapped. “Go away, Hakyeon.” And he laid back down and turned over, ignoring Hakyeon completely.

It hurt, like many things Taekwoon sometimes said or did. Apparently Hakyeon was just supposed to keep his mouth shut and pretend like it’d never happened, let it go unsaid and unmentioned, shoved into some dark corner and forgotten about. He loathed it, not having closure—communication was so important—but he loathed the idea of Taekwoon hating him even more, so he stood up.

“If that's how you feel,” he said quietly, trying not to let it get to him.

 

* * *

 

And he _did_ try. He tried really, really hard—so much so that Wonshik noticed, and took him aside, apprehensive concern written all over his face.

“You okay, hyung? You’ve been acting pretty weird lately.”

Hakyeon knew Wonshik hadn't signed up for this conversation just to get cried on, but he couldn’t help it; the fact that someone had _spoken_ to him about it, had noticed his distress and wanted to find out what it was—it hit him pretty hard, and he couldn’t hold back the hot rush of unhappiness.

It was bad form, as a leader and a hyung, but if he didn't tell someone, he thought he might burst.

“I accidentally hit Taekyeon,” he said, his face buried in Wonshik’s shoulder. Hayeon stood beside him, silent, head bowed. “And now Taekwoon won't talk to me.”

“Oh,” Wonshik said. There was a strange, uncertain edge to his voice. He patted Hakyeon awkwardly on the back and was silent for a long moment. Wonsook was giving him sad puppy eyes from where she was sitting at Wonshik’s feet, which wasn't all that abnormal, given that she was a dog to begin with; still, it made Hakyeon want to sink to the floor in a heap. Wonshik said, “You apologized, right?”

Hakyeon drew back slightly to smack his shoulder, eyes narrowing. “Of course! More than once.”

“Maybe he just needs some time? You know what he's like.”

“I’m giving him time,” Hakyeon said. More than he could stand, actually. He dabbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and fanned his face, breathing out through pursed lips. “But what if it’s not enough? Wonshikkie, I can't lose him, we’re supposed to be lifelong friends. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

“You didn't lose him, hyung,” Wonshik said. “We’re a team, right? He knows it's not your fault. Just—give him space, and he’ll come around.”

Wonshik probably thought he sounded convincing. Hakyeon clung to his reassurances anyway, absolutely refusing to accept the alternative.

It was hard, but he did it. He'd struggled before, and this was just—another hurdle. Promotions went on. He forced himself away and gave Taekwoon even _more_ space, put on a smile, acted like nothing was wrong; like leader N, not Cha Hakyeon. In the dorm, he did his best not to notice Taekwoon, and during their variety show appearances, if they were required to play a game, he endeavored to pair himself with one of the others instead. Wonshik must have told them what had happened, because they didn't protest nearly as much as they would have otherwise. Taekwoon was still cold toward him, and mostly didn't even look at him, even if Taekyeon did.

At their next fansign, Hakyeon sat deliberately at the far end of the table, putting the others between himself and Taekwoon, who had chosen a seat on the other side, next to Sanghyuk. It was supposed to prevent as much interaction between them as possible, but it didn’t work out that way: halfway through, Wonshik picked a game out of a cup that required them to compliment the person to their left, which meant Taekwoon had to loop back to Hakyeon—but Taekwoon didn't do that.

Instead, he said, “There's nothing. I don't see anyone.”

Hakyeon felt something wilt in his chest, a horrible throb that made his ribs ache. More than the usual teasing, this felt like Taekwoon had struck him on purpose; he couldn’t keep the disappointment off of his face. His throat felt tight. He shouldn't have expected anything—why did he  _always_ hope—

From down the table, Wonshik said, “Our leader is the best!” and Jaehwan chimed in with, “I love you, hyung,” accompanied by Jaehee’s sweet, enthusiastic trilling, but the damage had already been done: he could hear Hayeon sniffing quietly behind him, and when he looked, her big liquid eyes were wetter than usual.

When they got back to the dorm, he went straight to his room and laid in bed, and Hayeon clambered in after him, folding her long legs underneath herself. She rested her head on his stomach and he ran his hands over her pretty golden pelage, thoughtless repetitive touches to try and calm himself down.

Before he'd closed the door behind himself, he’d glimpsed Wonshik taking Taekwoon by the elbow, presumably to talk to him, Wonsook snapping not-so-playfully at Taekyeon, whose fur had bristled up in agitation. It was somehow satisfying to know he wasn’t the only one who thought Taekwoon had gone too far, but it was humiliating to think that someone else had to intervene on his behalf.

To be treated that way by someone he cared for—in front of fans, especially, where he couldn’t respond how he wanted, couldn’t show his true emotions, could do nothing but bite the bullet and move on—it hurt. It made him angry, too, but mostly, it made him miserable. He hated it.

He wanted his friend back.

 

* * *

 

The misery didn't go away. Wonshik _had_ talked to Taekwoon—as much as he could, he’d said—but instead of fixing the problem, it’d just made Taekwoon even more sullen.       

**Hongbinnie 02:12 AM**  
taekwoon-hyung made ramyun if you wanted some  
i thought i’d tell you since he won’t

**Hakyeon 02:13 AM**  
thanks, hongbinnie.

**Hongbinnie 02:15 AM**  
you know he didn’t mean it right?

**Hakyeon 02:16 AM**  
oh?  
and what’s stopping him from telling me that himself?

There was a long pause.      

**Hongbinnie 02:20 AM**  
i really hate it when you guys fight

_Me too_ , Hakyeon thought, and put down his phone to head to the kitchen.

Had it been a situation involving any other member, this would’ve been around the time Hakyeon piled up a small mountain of snacks in the middle of the dorm room floor and called a group meeting to discuss it; what he could do to help, how they were all feeling, what steps needed to be taken to fix whatever had been broken. But it was his burden to bear, and that made things difficult. The leader shouldered the responsibility; he wasn’t supposed to trouble his group. Hakyeon already felt guilty for letting his guard down around Wonshik. He wouldn't do it again.

So he didn’t mention it, in that week’s group meeting, and, predictably, neither did Taekwoon. By then, the hurt had started bubbling into petty, vicious anger, and he had to work to keep it trapped within himself, carefully hidden and unrewarded. It was so tempting to snap at Taekwoon, nag him, berate him for a million little things, things he couldn’t control—but he wasn’t going to do that, Hakyeon told himself; he wasn’t going to sink to that level. He wasn't.

 

* * *

 

At night, when he went to go put his bowl in the sink, he nearly tripped over Taekyeon, who had curled up in a ball outside his door.

Before he could stop himself, he snapped, "Yah, watch it," his hand over his chest, heart in his throat. Years of living together had desensitized them to addressing each other’s guardians, but it still felt strangely intrusive to talk to one of them directly, especially without their human present.

Taekyeon ignored him. He got to his feet and twined between Hayeon’s legs, purring. She nudged Taekyeon’s body with her nose and asked him, “Does Taekwoon know what you're doing?”

Unsurprisingy, Taekyeon said nothing.

Over the years, while Taekwoon had opened up, bit by bit, inch by inch, Taekyeon had remained selectively mute. Hakyeon thought he understood: a silent guardian meant that nobody could immediately tell what gender it was, at least not by the timbre of its voice. Even the members had only found out about Taekyeon few months after debut, when they’d overheard them both talking in one of the tinier Jellyfish practice rooms—Taekyeon’s smooth baritone the polar opposite of Taekwoon’s light tenor. Hakyeon had preemptively warned the rest of the kids to not tease Taekwoon for it, or, he'd said, very seriously, he would hunt them all down and make them regret it.

The fact that some guardians were the same gender as their humans was rare enough to be considered abnormal; almost everyone with one was bullied somehow, from the workplace (your resume required you to list your guardian's gender and species, in addition to providing a photograph), to regular, garden variety discrimination, where sexually dimorphic guardians made it easier to single out humans for harassment. Nobody knew why it happened. Research on the topic was controversial and often led to stereotyping, in the same sort of way that people with tiger guardians were automatically afforded more social clout. Some of the stereotypes turned out be correct, but Hayeon was female, so what did that make Hakyeon?

Anyway, it suited Taekwoon. They'd all known he was different from the beginning, and they’d been understanding, for the most part; Sanghyuk had been too scared of Taekwoon back then to even think about insulting him to his face, and by the time he’d started bossing his hyungs around, he’d matured enough not to care. Everyone knew to shut up about it, so it had never been a problem—to them, at least—but Taekyeon’s silence made understanding his behavior even more difficult.

"You should be more careful," Hakyeon said, after a moment, at a loss. "I don't want to hurt you."

Taekyeon flicked his tail, and then he walked away.

 

* * *

 

In the practice room, Taekwoon was more disruptive than usual, breaking formation to jab those nearest to him in the ribs and smiling like he expected them to tease back. Even Jaehwan snapped at him, and they all heard Jaehee's frustrated shriek from where she was perched on Wonsook’s head, watching them practice from the adjoining room. Nobody seemed to know how to handle the situation; Hakyeon wasn’t talking to Taekwoon, and Taekwoon was simply pretending like Hakyeon wasn’t there.

Eventually Sanghyuk intervened to throw Taekwoon around a little in revenge, tossing him onto the floor in a heap. He did it with a smile, as usual, but Hakyeon could tell he was just as fed up with Taekwoon as he was.

“This is unbearable,” Hongbin said, not bothering to censor himself. In her corner, Hyebin was restlessly hopping between Hayeon’s knobby knees and Wonsook's front paws. “Can’t you two get a grip?”

Hakyeon wiped the sweat from his forehead and pretended not to hear him. If he took the bait, it’d just devolve into a pointless screaming match, and he didn’t want to end up saying something he'd regret.

When they were done for the day, Hakyeon stayed back to tidy up, and just stood there in front of the mirror for a moment, collecting himself. He looked tired, dark circles more pronounced, hair matted with sweat. It wasn't any different from how he normally looked after a long practice session, but this time, he really _felt_ it, felt it all pressing down on him like the air itself was weighted, heavy. Hayeon's hooves clicked gently as she walked around him, sighing in that way she did whenever she didn't like what she was about to say.

"You should listen to Hongbin, you know," she murmured. "It's unbearable. Not just for them, but for you, too."

Hakyeon looked at the ceiling, put his hands on his hips, and blew the breath out of his lungs. 

They were last out of the practice room, but when he flicked off the lights and closed the door behind himself, he nearly ran into Taekyeon _again._

Startled, he said, “Sorry,” automatically, and looked up, and there was Taekwoon, standing there, watching him.

He swallowed, feeling all that guilt pile right back up again, and turned away before Taekwoon could see it on his face.

It wasn't until it happened three more times that the worry melted into hot, confused frustration. He didn’t want to end up harming either of them, but if Taekyeon kept hovering around like that, so dangerously close—he kept thinking about what Hongbin and Wonshik had said, what Hayeon had said, and it was all building up inside him; he was _this_ close to snapping, and then—he did, right after the last practice of the week, when all of them were bundling up to go back to the dorm, because he had just barely avoided _stepping_ on Taekyeon, and the heart-stopping combination of horror and fear gave way to an inevitable flood of rage.

“Yah, Jung Taekwoon!” he yelled, whirling on him, and even Hayeon gave an angry bay, her head lowering aggressively. Everyone _froze_ , especially Taekwoon, who looked startled, and then—strangely—guilty. Hakyeon snapped, “Control your fucking guardian, will you? Do you want the same thing to happen _again?_ ”

Taekwoon stared at him. There was a deathly, horrible silence; everyone and their guardians just stood there, looking back and forth between them. Nobody dared say a word.

After what felt like an age, Taekwoon dropped his gaze, and then knelt, holding out his arms for Taekyeon to jump into. Even from where Hakyeon was standing, he could see that Taekyeon was shivering, silky fur standing on end. Taekwoon put him up on his shoulders and said nothing.

Hakyeon’s eyes felt hot. He was breathing hard. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and once it was clear Taekwoon wasn’t going to give him a response, he whirled and stormed out, shoving past Jaehwan, who tried to stop him, Jaehee warbling in distress on his shoulder. “Hyung—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Hakyeon hissed, and Jaehwan stepped back immediately, and let him go.

 

* * *

 

He slammed the door to his room and made sure everyone knew he and Hayeon weren’t to be bothered, and then he sank into his sofa and called Minhyuk. “Minhyuk-ah,” Hakyeon said, when he picked up. His voice was stable at first, calm, and then it wasn’t. “Do you have time to talk?”

Hakyeon told him everything. Minhyuk made understanding noises through the phone, and then he said, “He might just have no idea how to handle it. That kind of thing, it’s not something you can just… brush off.”

“I know that.” Hakyeon sighed, exhausted. It had been so long since he’d had a real fight with Taekwoon, and he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear any of this. “I know he's hurting. I just wish he’d talk to me about it.”

“This is Taekwoon, Hakyeon. He’s not going to do that unless you make him.”

“He won't want to.”

“Since when has that stopped you?”

Hakyeon laughed bitterly, idly stroking Hayeon’s flank. She turned her head and lipped at his wrist. “He’s got a point,” she told him.

“Hush, you,” he said, to both of them, and closed his eyes and sighed.

 

* * *

 

Minhyuk was right. He couldn’t let this fester, no matter how much he wanted to avoid it; it couldn’t go on, and it was his duty as the leader to fix it. This was both the problem and the advantage of living together: everyone was within a very short distance of each other, and it only took a few long strides to reach Taekwoon’s door, firmly shut. It was probably locked.

“Taekwoon-ah,” he called, and tried the doorknob. He was right: Taekwoon had locked it. “We need to talk.”

No response. He knocked. “Taekwoon-ah. I’m not leaving until we have a chat.”

Again, no response. Hakyeon put his back to the door, sat down with Hayeon, and pulled out his phone. Taekwoon would have to go to the bathroom eventually.

Members came and went from their respective rooms, glancing at him curiously. On a snack trip to the kitchen, Hongbin swung by, kneeling down to give him a banana milk and a thumbs up. Hakyeon returned the thumbs up, and Hongbin went back to his room with the rest of his haul, presumably to game for a while. Hakyeon drank the banana milk and read the fancafe to pass the time.

Sure enough, one hour later, the door opened, and Hakyeon jammed his foot in before Taekwoon could close it or step over him and Hayeon. Taekwoon didn’t look particularly surprised he was still there, but he did seem annoyed. He tried to maneuver his way past without looking at him, but Hakyeon caught his ankle and slapped him on the shin. “Stop acting like a child, Jung Taekwoon,” he snapped. “We’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not.”

Taekwoon shook him off his leg. “Fine,” he said. He went to the bathroom, and by the time he came back, Hakyeon had parked himself on the bed, Hayeon with her head on his lap, and was patting the spot next to him. Taekwoon ignored him and sat at the other end the bed with at least two feet of space between them. Taekyeon paced on the floor in front of the bed, tail flicking in agitation.

Hakyeon pursed his lips, but accepted this, and said instead: “I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m sorry before you start believing me, Taekwoon. I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you or Taekyeon, that was—unprofessional of me, but I’ve reached my limit. You need to tell me the truth. I've given you space, but you're still acting cold. Why? Why are you treating me this way? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Taekwoon didn’t look at him.

“Aren’t we?” Hakyeon repeated, anxiety flooding him; he hadn’t considered Taekwoon might say _no_ , but—

“Yes,” Taekwoon said softly, and Hakyeon relaxed, breathing out a small sigh of relief.

“Then I need you to help me understand, Taekwoonie. I don’t know what I did wrong. Did I hurt you that much?” Hakyeon scooted closer. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

Taekwoon was quiet. Taekyeon suddenly leapt up and settled in his lap, and Taekwoon stroked his fur with a slow, steady hand. “No,” he said, finally.

“ _No?"_  Hakyeon said.

“You don’t want to know.”

“ _Yes_ , yes I do,” Hakyeon said desperately. “Tell me, Taekwoonie, please.”

Taekwoon looked at him. Over the years, Hakyeon had learned to read him well, but his expression now was one he hadn't seen in a very long time: there was a slight pinched tightness around his eyes and lips, the same kind of look he used to get when there was a camera right in his face, way too close. He was _scared._

“No, you don’t,” Taekwoon whispered.

“You have to trust me,” Hakyeon said, _willing_ Taekwoon to understand, to feel his sincerity. “Please. Trust that I could never hate you, or that I'd ever harm you or Taekyeon on purpose, no matter what.”

Taekwoon swallowed visibly. His jaw clenched, and then abruptly he reached out, but not toward him.

His fingers brushed against Hayeon’s ear.

A shudder rippled through Hakyeon, from the crown of his head to the joints of his toes, like someone had cracked an egg on his skull and buried the yolk inside him, _through_ him, all the way down. He gasped for air, feeling like he'd just missed a step going down—only it was so much _more_ than that, like he'd missed twenty steps, or a hundred, like he’d walked right off the edge of a building and plummeted thirty stories. He’d been so worried about causing some kind of accidental violation that he hadn't considered what it might feel like if—if your guardian was touched by someone you loved.

Hayeon was standing stock-still, legs locked. Hakyeon looked at Taekwoon in shock, quivering. His throat worked around a thick lump as he tried to find words; involuntary tears welled up, blurry and hot.

After a moment, he managed, “I thought you said you didn’t want to touch her?”

“I didn't mean it,” Taekwoon said. His chest was rising and falling visibly, and his cheeks were faintly flushed, eyes as dark as shards of flint.

Hakyeon realized with a sudden deluge of understanding just _why_ Taekwoon had been avoiding him, pretending like he didn’t exist, why Taekyeon had been underfoot so often, trying to get _closer_ , testing, when Taekwoon wouldn’t dare, wouldn’t even think about it, and it was so much better—and so much worse—than he'd hoped.

“You liked it,” Hakyeon whispered.

Taekwoon's silence was damning. He looked away. Hakyeon moved on instinct: he slowly extended a hand toward Taekyeon, who meowed, moving to meet him, and allowed Hakyeon to slide his fingers gently, tentatively, through his soft fur.

Taekwoon shivered and let out a small, breathless sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan. He caught Hakyeon's gaze, and his eyes _burned._

“Taekwoonie,” Hakyeon said, dazed. He felt like he’d just been hit by a truck, run over and ruined. Slowly, he removed his hand and put it back on the bed, skin tingling. “You should have told me. I know you were scared, but you must’ve known I’d find out—”

“And then what?” Taekwoon said. “Nothing can happen. It doesn’t matter.”

Hakyeon looked at him. “Why do you say that? It does matter. You’re my friend.”

Taekwoon ducked his head. Hakyeon reached out and took his hand. “What do you want?”

There was another long, tense moment. “More,” Taekwoon said, shoulders hunched.

“Then why—”

“I can’t.”

But Taekyeon was coming closer again, purring. He touched his nose to the tip of Hakyeon’s finger, and another little shock of deep, raw feeling went through him. Taekwoon trembled. Hayeon was looking up at him, too, long-lashed and terrifyingly open. She put her head on the bedspread near Taekwoon's knee, eyes bright.

“You _can_ ,” Hakyeon said, propelled entirely by nameless emotion. “You can touch her again.” He took Taekwoon’s hand and put it on his own thigh. “You can touch me.”

Taekwoon made a wounded sort of noise, and then he surged forward.

He caught Hakyeon’s lips in a messy, open kiss. Hakyeon clutched at him and fell back, and let Taekwoon take what he’d wanted all along: big hands grasping at his waist, wanting; lips covering lips, tongues gliding together, pressing in. Taekwoon held him and kissed him fiercely, mindlessly, and then slowed down, as if realizing he didn’t have to rush it—but then Hakyeon was grabbing at his hips, getting him to straddle him properly, and arched wantonly up into his kisses, breathless and joyful. “How long?” he gasped, in the space between their lips.

“Don’t ask me that,” said Taekwoon, swiping his thumb against Hakyeon’s temple.

“Okay,” said Hakyeon. “I won’t. Just keep kissing me.”

Taekwoon gave a small grunt and did, rocking his hips down in a tentative sweep. Hakyeon moaned softly into his mouth, and clutched at his back. Hayeon was trying to get into bed _with_ them, so she could find Taekyeon and nuzzle him, but it just brought her into more contact with Taekwoon, and Hakyeon clawed at his biceps and shuddered beneath his weight, eyelids fluttering. It was the most intimate thing he had ever felt, a feeling deeper even than sex, a completely overpowering sensation that he wasn’t sure even had a word.

“Taekwoonie, please,” he said, searching with one of his hands to find Taekyeon, and slid his fingers through soft, silky fur. Taekwoon jerked and curled over him, heaving out a sob, or something like it.

“What do you want?” Hakyeon asked again, breathless, looking up into Taekwoon’s awed face, cupping his jaw. “Do you want me?”

Taekwoon gave a nod.

“The door,” Hakyeon said, suddenly remembering. It was unlikely they’d be interrupted—everyone usually respected each other’s privacy, but— “You can have me, but first—”

Taekwoon got up immediately and went to lock it, and Hakyeon took the opportunity to arrange himself more comfortably on the bed. He gave Hayeon and Taekyeon more space to curl up together so he wouldn’t roll over on them; but as Taekwoon was coming back, he dragged a finger down Taekyeon’s spine and _watched_ Taekwoon stumble mid-step, sweat breaking out on his pale forehead. He crawled back on top of Hakyeon with his mouth open, panting.

Hakyeon kissed him hungrily and let Taekwoon settle back between his spread legs, pressing down on him like a lead weight. He moaned loudly into his mouth, and Taekwoon bit at his lips, ravenous. Then he drew back and said, "You have to be quiet," voice small, desperate.

Hakyeon flushed, and then he smirked, and whispered, “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to hear me?”

“I—” Taekwoon looked the hungriest Hakyeon had ever seen him. “Yes,” he breathed. “But the others—”

“I know,” Hakyeon said. “I'll try.”

He moved a hand down between them and cupped Taekwoon through his pajamas, feeling him hard and firm against his palm, burning hot through the flannel. Taekwoon's breath stuttered. He bucked his hips, and Hakyeon gave him a slow, gentle squeeze over the straining fabric. “Let me touch you,” he said, dragging the tip of his tongue over the swell of Taekwoon’s bottom lip. “I want to feel us together.”

Taekwoon gave a soft, broken affirmation, and Hakyeon undid the single button of his fly, and drew him through the flap, savoring the feeling of his blood-hot skin—the timid way Taekwoon twitched for him, the full weight of his cock in his hand. “Hakyeonnie,” Taekwoon gasped, and Hakyeon's chest felt full to bursting; he shoved his own sweatpants down to mid thigh and got them lined up, unable to help a soft, awed moan at the sensation of being pressed together, the liquid bloom of pleasure, knowing Taekwoon was hard like this just for him, because of him; he reeled at how intimate it was, how much Taekwoon must trust him to handle his body like this.

Taekwoon kissed his neck, and Hakyeon bared further it for him, knowing he looked good like that: a long stretch of skin for Taekwoon to drag his lips over, to bite and kiss. He arched his spine, rolling his hips up while Taekwoon rocked steadily down, rutting together in tandem until they were both dripping wet, until Taekwoon was braced over him on his elbows and panting damply against his mouth as he worked, Hakyeon forcing his own moans into short ragged breaths.

Taekwoon reached down to encircle Hakyeon’s fist with his own, and Hakyeon clutched at Taekwoon's hip and jerked beneath him, the new well of pressure sending him up and over in a perfect, gentle wave. He started to come, eyelids fluttering at the sweet burn of ecstasy; he felt Taekwoon’s eyes on him and kept his fingers tight, letting him fuck into the slick, tight ring of his fist the rest of the way to orgasm. Taekwoon spasmed, fraying apart, and Hakyeon yanked his own shirt up, baring his stomach so Taekwoon could come all over him, and he did; mouth parted, glassy-eyed, looking absolutely staggered.

“Hakyeonnie,” he said again, barely a whisper.

“Come here,” Hakyeon said, and drew him back down again.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to Hayeon nudging his face with her nose and saying, “Get up, the manager will be here soon,” and rolled over to find Taekwoon with his hair sticking up in all directions, cheek half-buried in his pillow; Taekyeon was a ball of fur under his arm, his lamp-like eyes wide open, watching. Hakyeon smiled at them both, hopelessly endeared, and kissed Taekwoon’s cheek, and then pulled at his shoulder, saying, “Taekwoonie, get up.”

It was early, early enough to steal into the shower after Sanghyuk was done, who hadn’t seemed to notice just _where_ Hakyeon had emerged from, still groggy and sleepy-eyed. Under the hot spray, Hakyeon scrubbed Taekwoon’s flaking come off his belly—and just thinking about how it had gotten there made him shiver, a echo of warmth pulsing in his stomach; he reached down to touch, a tempting stroke or two, just to remind himself that it’d really happened. When he was done, he dressed and threw all his dirty clothing in his laundry basket, the musky sex-smell lost in the fog of scented perfume bottles; still, he lit a candle for a while, just to be absolutely certain. He checked his appearance in the mirror, fixed his hair, and went around banging on doors to get everyone else up and ready for the day.

“You’re in a good mood,” Hongbin said, out in the living room, squinting at him. He had Hyebin tucked securely in his arms, her long soft ears poking out from under the crook of his elbow. “Where’s Hayeon-noona?”

Hakyeon looked around himself, and then realized abruptly she was still in bed with Taekwoon and Taekyeon. He fought not to blush, but managed to recover when Wonshik stuck his horrendous bedhead out from his room and asked, thick-voiced, “Did you guys work it out? I didn't hear any yelling last night.”

“Yes, we—you don’t have to worry,” Hakyeon said, unable to keep the bright grin off his face. He felt giddy.

“We weren’t,” said Hongbin and Hyebin at the same time, very unconvincingly.

Taekwoon emerged from his room with his head bowed, and avoided eye contact, but Hakyeon bounded over to him and slung an arm around his neck. Taekwoon made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t try to push him off. “Sleep well, Taekwoonie?” Hakyeon asked, and shook him a little.

Taekwoon said nothing, but went faintly pink.

“Thank _God_ ,” Sanghyuk said, tucked up on the couch, feeding Sanghee apple slices. “You know what divorce does, hyung? You’d have torn this family apart.” Sanghee whickered in amusement, tail swishing.

“Hush, kids,” said Hakyeon. “You know I’d never let that happen.”

He felt Taekwoon’s arm come around his waist and rest there, and was so purely happy for a moment that it didn’t register right away when Jaehwan stomped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and said, “Sure took your fucking time, though, huh? I thought you were gonna tear my head off after practice yesterday. I can’t perform headless, hyung. I need my head.”

“I actually will, if you don’t get dressed,” Hakyeon said, pointing threateningly. “You’ll make us late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaehwan muttered, and turned back around. “Yeah, yeah,” Jaehee mocked, trilling happily, and flew over from where she’d been perched on Jaehwan’s shoulder to walk precariously back and forth on top of Sanghee’s back, withers to rump. Jaehwan pointed a finger at her before he disappeared into his room, saying: “Don’t you start!”

Hakyeon went back to his own room to blow out his candle. Taekwoon followed him, shut the door, and quietly touched a hand to his shoulder.

“Hakyeon-ah,” he said, and blinked. “I'm sorry."

Hakyeon looked at him, affection brimming sweetly in his chest, and smiled. He said, gently, "I appreciate that, Taekwoonie, thank you."

"I want," Taekwoon started, glanced away, licked his lips. "I'd... like it if this stayed between us."

Hakyeon reached out to grasp his wrist. “Of course. I’d never do anything to—to ruin us, you know that. We’ll go at your pace. Whatever you want.”

Taekwoon nodded, and hesitated, and then ducked forward to steal a soft kiss. Hakyeon smiled into it and cupped Taekwoon’s cheek. “Ah, you’re so cute like this,” he sighed, wistfully. “I remember when we first debuted, you—”

Taekwoon rolled his eyes and started to walk away.

“Yah!” Hakyeon called after him. “I wasn’t finished!”

“Leave him be,” Hayeon told him; Hakyeon turned to look at her and discovered that Taekyeon was there, rubbing his head against her legs, eyes closed. He was purring low, and then he said, unexpectedly, “You’re so embarrassing, Hakyeonnie.”

Hakyeon was too surprised to answer, but Hayeon said, “You’re one to talk,” and bent to touch her nose to his.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike Western dæmons, I like to think that Korean dæmons would for the most part have generational names, i.e. share a hanja character with their human counterparts. This wouldn’t be the case for people with purely native Korean names (Haneul, Nari, Iseul), whose dæmons might have similarly native names, but I figured it might be a common practice? (???)
> 
> Hakyeon’s Hayeon (from the hanja 河 “river, stream” and 沿 “following the trail of water”) is a sika hind. Deer in East Asian mythology traditionally symbolize elegance, grace, longevity, and beauty; sika deer in particular are known for being vocal, protective, and for keeping their spots (youth) as they age.
> 
> Hyebin (慧 “bright, intelligent” and 斌 “to shine”) is a Korean hare. Hares are larger, more powerful, and more solitary than rabbits, though historically, there wasn’t much of a distinction between the two. In folklore, the hare is typically portrayed as more of a playful trickster figure, associated primarily with the moon, fertility, and longevity. In general, hares are diligent, ambitious, swift creatures, though they are also nervous and easily startled.
> 
> Jaehwan’s dæmon, Jaehee (from 在 ”to exist, to be,” and 喜 ”joy”), is a Korean magpie. Especially in Korea, magpies are historically seen as deliverers of good news, symbols of good luck, and harbingers of joy and happiness. In the wild, magpies are skilled at vocal mimicry, and will happily vocalize anything from birdsong to human speech.
> 
> Sanghee (相 “to shine” and 熙 “bright, splendid, glorious”) is a dark bay Thoroughbred mare. Horses are large, powerful creatures that symbolize personal freedom and an unconquerable spirit. They are playful and impulsive, hard to tame. Thoroughbreds especially are known for their agility, speed, and strength of character.
> 
> Taekyeon (澤 “pond” and 妍 “beautiful”) is a Russian Blue tomcat. Though cats were typically only kept around to get rid of vermin, they were also thought to drive away evil spirits. Russian Blues are at first shy and reserved, but form deep connections with their chosen people. Once a certain level of comfort is achieved, they will become quite playful, with a flair for the dramatic; they are also adept, athletic predators.
> 
> Wonshik has a Doberman Pinscher dæmon, Wonsook (元 ”the best, the top” and 淑 “good, pure, virtuous, charming”). Dogs are universally loyal, faithful companions, and are traditionally perceived in East Asia as protectors from evil and injustice. Dobermans in particular are considered both working dogs and guard dogs, and, while loving and devoted animals, can be fierce if provoked.


End file.
